Manifest Destiny
by Autumn Nocturne
Summary: Through with running from her destiny for years, Amy realizes that her attempts at reinventing herself have been all for naught. After reaching rock bottom, she follows her instincts to reunite with the one other she shares fate with, only to find out that procrastination has bestowed her with dire consequences. ShadAmy.
1. Prologue

I don't know when it began, or even how, really... It seemed to be a transition, smooth as the clouds rolling in from the horizon, overtaking the sun. I remember snippets of it all, and the inability to trace back thoroughly, to recall the colors, the sensations - to only remember his eyes and they way they got me so heated. And I want to try. Try to remember. Really, I do.

I kept myself poised on his deck, my elbows chafing against the rawness of the wooden railings, swollen with early morning humidity. The sky had a peachy glow to it - three or four a.m. And the sun was just stretching its first rays above the clouds. The heat of the summer mixed with the taste of the night's rain delightfully, as a breeze carried the scent of lavender and city to my senses. My blurred eyes strained as I attempted to focus them on the horizon, seeking out the few headlights that crossed the city bridge in the distance. I tried to think. Formulate a thought. Consider my existence, just for a moment, and found that I could not. Every part of me ached, every muscle had tightened, and every breath burned. So I lit a cigarette.

Slowly I pulled the flame away from the tip of my smoke, and watched the small light dissipate amidst the morning dew. I inhaled deeply, sighing into my drug, and imagined myself a powerful dragon as the smoke escaped me through my nose. It had been so long... Three, maybe four years, and in that time, I forgot who I was. I forgot my purpose. I forgot who I was supposed to be. I'm not entirely sure whether I'm proud of defying my destiny, or concerned about my supposed damnation, but at that moment, the only thing in the world that mattered to me was the nicotine betwixt my fingers. I enjoyed another drag.

During those years... During the wasteland, I feel that not all was for naught. Although I poured myself into a quest for reaching the ultimate level of hedonism, I learned a great deal. Perhaps it was the substance abuse that taught me who I was, or the physical abuse that made me aware of my endurance, but all in all I managed to create something out of myself - a warrior. An individual of debauched morale and constant questioning. I had awoken in me a thirst for dangerous adventure and risky behavior, often with no reward other than the act itself. And here I was, back on his porch with the same insomnia, thinking in the early morning again, yet somehow, a changed woman.

In my glory days, or days of ignorance, I never considered him to be a constant. I have memories of being surrounded by close friends and smiling faces, yet my understanding of it all now is not as it used to be. Conversations back then were shallow, and our reactions, predictable and bland. I was surrounded, yes, with others who were there, but somehow not present. And he... He was never available upon request, but when we did interact, it was real. Not forced, or acceptable by any social standards, but none of that mattered. Those times that we met and we spoke, it was so raw and striking that it was almost visceral, and I wonder if, when I think of the past, he is the reason why I can only recall those chapters that he appeared. And I wonder why, amongst all the others that I connected with in my time, that he was the one I returned to. And why after all this time, I didn't see it before. All this time, denying, refuting, reversing, and I never saw it in him, and I never accepted it in me. That power. That undeniable pull, like a magnet in my skull, driving my headache until I submit to its will... I didn't have the nerve to ask, and I still don't.

I heard the screen door behind me snap quietly, the hinges hissing as they too awoke from their slumber. "You haven't changed a bit, have you?"

He wrapped his arms around me. No. Things were different. We were older, more experienced, less confused by our own bodies and more aware of our needs and desires. Aware that our destiny was to be fulfilled sooner than later, aware of the energies that linked us to one another and to something else we couldn't explain. More knowing of what was to come and why we, when we were so young, felt such defiance against what needed to be done. Why our paths always crossed, and knowing, truly, that there was something privy between us.

It wasn't different this time, just more complicated.

I remember the day that had started it all. I had moved myself completely into the city, my clothes, my bed - all the little things I possessed and the attitude that I was going to achieve something. Pull some erudition from the skyscrapers and fill the emptiness inside of me with a profound knowledge. Experience.

That night I indulged in the same things I always had. Across the busy street from my apartment lay a vast garden, home to the night walkers and those demons with hoods over their face. I was so young and foolish - too stupid to understand the concept of fear, too dense to even allow myself to consider it. After hours of alcoholic consumption, I felt more ready than ever to conquer something, or someone, and that's when I met him. The other him. The first.

His eyes shown with mischievous undertones as he glanced around his surroundings, strumming the guitar with some odd looking friend by his side. "You, come here, I'll play a song about you." And I obeyed. Defiance was something I had not yet practiced - my ultimate downfall. Here I wish I could remember more, scents, colors, the reaction of the acquaintance I brought along with me that night. I remember it being hot, but I know I'm wrong. The early winter winds of September must have been strong, or maybe, it was that something I sensed. When we made eye contact in that moment, I had this feeling of desire. There was something within him I wanted to taste. Something I wanted to awaken - a beast I wanted to tame and command as my own.

Later that night, I brought him home. What passion we shared was the best and last, but I didn't know. He did, and he let me taste the finest bit of it so that I was hooked. Throughout those years I continued to search for the same thing within him, within others, through extracurriculars and dead end adventures. All in vain, but I can't tell myself that. I'd rather say I learned something. About me, about the world. Part of me is okay with the lying, but I know that ultimately, I've just scarred myself.

"Shadow," I whisper, pulling myself out of my recollective daze. I trace my fingers along his bare hands, resting on my hips from behind. His breath kisses my bare shoulders, and his mouth presses firmly against my back. "I can feel it so much now... Never before had I..." I trail off. We need to have this talk. I need to know where he stands. I can't do this alone.

He picks up where I left off, exhaling and trailing his cheek along the bridge of my back, digging his fingertips deeper into my flesh, anchoring himself, because he knows. "Whatever it is you need, you know that I am here. You know that I have an understanding of the things you don't. Please do not fear destiny. It is...ultimate. Not an ultimatum."

His lips part with a soft smack as he drags his muzzle against my inner neck. "You and I..." his tone is low, muffled against my skin, "We have no choice." Finished. It's the truth. It's barely audible and I know neither of us wants to hear it. He bites down on his bottom lip and continues on with something I can't quite make out. "'...Hunngf..."

I look up, feeling the air grow hotter. The morning has almost arrived, and I wish the calm of the night would stay. "What time is it?" I question groggily, my voice cracking at the end.

"Too early... It doesn't matter."

I lean my frame into him, falling backwards with my knees slightly bent. His left arm reaches around me and pulls the cigarette from my fingers, putting it between his own lips as he takes a step back and seats himself on the porch chair, holding me up momentarily, before cradling me in his seated lap.

"You know," he starts, speaking from the side of his mouth as he takes a long drag from the cigarette. He pulls me closer with one arm, the other hand pinching the cigarette and brining it to the side of the railing, ashing it upon the city stories beneath us. "There was a moment when I though you had found solace. I felt it. I felt like you wouldn't accept this, and I might never see you again."

There's an awkward pause, and I feel myself blushing with frustration.

"When you came here, I was surprised. I figured you had run."

I mentally applaud him for being truthful, but its not what I want to hear. I'm stronger than that. He should know.

"But I... I didn't know you very well, and I still don't." He adds, staring intently at something I don't see. His hand finds the curve of my neck, and scratches lightly, comforting me in a way only he knows how. I watch as smoke rings float from his lips, growing larger and fuller until they pop and become one with the air. "There was a time when I thought of you, I could only see a dark figure, painted with lights and noise. I could only see you dancing as one with the music... See your pupils widened and your jaw tight."

"That's it?" I challenge, furrowing my brows.

"If you remember Miss Rose, that's all I saw."

He's right.

I uncurl my legs and stretch them over the arm of the chair he's seated on, shifting my weight in his lap. I hiss as the bend of my knee kisses the cold morning dew that has settled on the cheap plastic furniture. A small wind picks up and offers a light shower against my exposed body. I shiver as he revels. Slowly, more memories surface. Bright strobes and tiny clear capsules filled with powder in my hands. I wiggle my fingers. I can almost feel them again.

"Shadow..." I moan, flexing my arms above my head, feeing my spine crack with sleep. "Hmmm... Why didn't you ever save me?"

The question catches him off guard. His eyes dart from their place of rest in the distance and meet mine with an intensity. I've struck something inside of him.

"You're no damsel, Miss Rose. I should think you've realized that by now. You didn't need saving." Hs eyes glower. He's upset, "You needed to learn."

I feel small under his gaze. It's stupid, but I like it. I miss the domination. The violating of me. I take in a deep breath, raising my breast considerably before slowly letting it out through my parted mouth. I realize I'm fucked up. I know myself. I've learned, but nothing has changed my desires.

He shakes his head 'no' and turns his attention elsewhere, obviously bothered by my forwardness. Something inside urges me to push him.  
"I didn't realize back then. I could have saved so much pain. And I... It wasn't good for either of us... To run, you know? And, and you did know. So why did you stand to the side and watch?"

He removes his hand from the back of my head sharply. I fall back a bit before my my body ridges and I catch myself. He takes one last drag before flicking the cigarette away with that same hand, his eyes following its trail as it lands on the earth, just out of view. "Hmph."

"You're so young. So naive... You'll learn." The damnation in his voice is evident, and the harsh tone of honesty both turns me on and frightens me.

I let out a small chuckle as the first ray of sun reaches the floor of the deck, casting an illuminating, golden glow on the crests of his cheeks. He looks at me again, confused. Just hours ago I was ready for this conversation, mentally prepared and set to lead it somewhere useful. Now the sun has stolen my fight, and I instead go within, to a place in my memory where there is no pain.

"Do you remember," I start, my grin growing wider as the recollection envelops my senses, "...That December night where I found you at the back of that warehouse?"

He purses his lips and raises an eyebrow. There's a spark in his eye, and he thinks I missed it. He remembers vividly. I lower my eyelids and focus on the fire burning under his cheeks. I wrap my hand around his wrist, squeezing for a pulse that finds me fast, hard and heavy. I wonder how he sees me in his mind, how I looked to him that night, drugged and lecherous.

He responds rather shyly for his character, "Mmhmm."

I pull my upper body up so that I am eye level. He turns his head away, but I meet his gaze quickly, throwing my legs around either side of his, grabbing his face between my hands and holding his livid glower. He doesn't want to be touched, but I'm changing that.

"I remember."

I lean into him, our eyes only inches apart. There's no escape for either of us. I feel that pull in the pit of stomach and I know he does too. I've awakened it. His breathing becomes labored. I've been back for only a few weeks, and this is what I've missed the most. The few nights we've had in the past were incomparable to the others. I had my boy and he had his girl, but what we shared was a dirty secret and I wanted it again with no lying or hiding. I wanted it again in full force, with all the pain and pleasure we deserved because now it was right. I lean in to gently lick his right ear before whispering,

"Fuck me like you used to."


	2. The Beginning of The End : Letting Go

It wasn't always like this... A life with nightmares and uncontrollable fits of instability. I sometimes feel as though my head might roll off my shoulders. That my balance, or lack there of, may lead me astray...

I awake to the even tone of overcast skies bleeding into the bedroom. My eyes slowly begin to focus as I indulge in the scent of peppermint and sweat that hangs heavy in the air. I shift my leg to meet another's next to my own, and elicit a small hum. I rub at my eyes with my right palm, my other hand reaching to that spot between my legs that aches. Suddenly I feel hot, as the recollection of the early mornings activities play themselves in my mind.

I sit up slowly, shifting my weight on my elbows, my skin reveling in the soft brush of his thick silk sheets. I reach around behind me, back cracking with the remains of sleep caught in my bones, and extend my arm towards the large window at the head of the bed. My fingers flex to separate dust layered Venetian blinds. I peer into the wilderness. What had appeared to be a promising sunrise had born itself in the the grayest of days.

* * *

I find myself sipping coffee out of a white paper cup whilst rain hammers itself into the city pavement. I'm under an awning in front of some coffee shop I've never been to and I'm staring intently at the intricacy of the textured granite sidewalk. Lately...or, perhaps longer than lately. For some time... Some amount of time I cannot tell, I feel emptied of all consciousness... I search my mind for where I was or what I was doing or how I felt and I can never seem to place myself. I peel my eyes from the ground searching the buildings around me for a clock of some sort, but the fog has blanketed the city in an uninformed haze. I can barely see five feet ahead of me. I consider this for a moment, unnerved by such similarity... Back to thinking...

This morning. I remember my awakening. I remember seeing the grey of his bedroom, feeling his warmth under the blankets next to me, and cursing at the weather as I looked outside... I remember... Hissing when my feet touched the cold floor... Remember considering if I could be quiet enough showering not wake him, and then... Nothing.

I'm pulled from my moment of contemplation as smoke fills my nose. I look to my right to see two feet stuffed into an looses herded and worn pair of sneakers next to my own.

"Hey" I say coolly, gesturing with a half smile. "Could I buy a spare smoke from you?"

"Take it," the kid replies, offering the open end of a pack for me to help myself.  
My fingers shake as they nimbly find a stick and swiftly bring it to my lips, igniting the end with a lighter I wasn't aware I had.

I take a deep breath. Let the smoke fill me and ground me more to the earth. I'm here, I tell myself. I have consciousness, and from now on, I will repeat this.

I exhale. Thunder shakes the window panes of the coffee shop behind me and I'm reminded of the kindness I was just offered I the form of cancer, "Thanks man."

Where has it all gone? I wonder. I haven't any answers - just questions driving me mad. Reciting over, and over, and over. Again and again remembering the same white smoke, the bright lights, and it all eases into one amorphous memory. I remind myself what I'm truly left with: All I have is questions.

I sigh and flick the but of my cigarette, the ash disintegrating into the wet fog. I heave a heavy sigh and look around me.

"I'm here." I mutter to myself, my eyes dragging themselves from my feet and up towards the bright, gray sky, where they squint in defeat. I notice that I am alone. The rain picks up and drums evenly in chorus with the wind.

"I'm alone. I've questions..." I feel the back of my throat burning. A heavy anvil of misery settles in the same place within where fits of laughter have emit. Where I have sprung chords of joy. The toska returns. My eyes swell with tears.

"I'm all alone... With no one to help me find the answers."

I cry. I don't even stop myself. My lips pucker, dry and cracked as I bring the coffee cup to them. I think more to myself - wonder if I'm to blame. The coffee scourges my tongue, and I let it burn. I deserve this. I deserve everything. Nothing.

Slowly, faces surface themselves in my mind. They're powerful, and almost foreign. Faces I thought I had forgotten. Faces and hands that I had forced out of my memory. That I had forced out of my life. Memories past. A life left behind. A life that wasn't entirely my own. A life for someone else. One of my questions remains here as a summit of my anxiety. If it was for another, and by, but through me... If I was the pawn, knowingly deceived, am I truly to blame?

I exhale, my breath choppy and shaking my chest. My tears fall heavy and mix with the rain. I walk, but I cannot see. I feel a familiarity with what's happening, and I don't fight it. Submit to the pull.

I stand in the middle of the quiet road on some side street that doesn't matter. Ive never been here, yet I'm here now. But this time I'll let it be. It's what he said to do. For once, I'll listen.

I close my eyes. The darkness that surrounds me clutches my senses, and feeds me commands. My arms raise themselves triumphantly, freed of my control. I feel them differently,as if through someone else - through a body that is no longer my own. A hand that does not exist guides them upwards, holds them without my effort. Rain falls and bathes them in sweet, independent chills. The sensation is detoxifying. It rules me. I feel my lips part and sighs escape them. Far away I hear my coffee splash and connect against the ground I can no longer feel, fallen from my hands that no longer wish to hold. My arms, my fingers... A blanket of cold envelops me and I feel like I'm floating. I feel like I'm high.

Slowly... Or quickly, I cannot tell, that familiar pull finds me again in the same place. My heart flutters and my head aches dully as it grips a place within I can't pinpoint. I don't know what it is but I feel it with my body... My emotions come to life. I exist in a state where notions like anger and joy are enjoyed physically. A plane of sentience for things not otherwise known. "Is this it?" I wonder silently, my shoulders rolling back to a state of relaxation I have never known. My muscles stretch and my veins buzz as if my legs had been crossed for decades.

It's not enough to translate my being into words. My mind scurries to rationalize, but I find that I can't. I had spent so long before fighting, pushing, and shoving. I feel breath move in and out of me, rain drops tap against my eyelids and rush themselves down my body, burning new paths, independently and without concern. It all feels so right. I feel so light. And then, the light sees me.

And then I feel what I was afraid of. The insurmountable pain. I whisper.

"Shadow..."


	3. Romanticizing The Past

Sleep. There was a time when that alone was enough. A time when my breathing slowed, where my memories faded away into a light breeze, and I could dream of whatever it was I wanted.

Often times I took myself to my home. To that place in my dreamworlds that was so foreign, yet inexplicably familiar.

And here I return.

I wonder if I'm dead.

* * *

I awake with a start, blood rushing to my head, pounding my temples and aching with the weight of an anvil as I position myself upright in a bed which seems... my own. I hold wetted sheets in my hands, the dampened linen clinging to my exposed breasts. My sweat, assuredly, acting as a form of glue. I'm sticky all over. I look down at my ungloved hands to see dirt and matted fur lying atop white sheets, crumpled and stained.

"Wha..." I mouth inaudibly, scanning my eyes across the room. I feel fear work its way into a knot in my stomach as recollections resurface in my mind. I know this place. My eyes find the carpeted floor, littered with trash and clothes, decorated with polka dot cigarette burns and empty liquor bottles, plastic and cheap. I open my mouth to breathe as the jarring aroma of nicotine and city floods my senses, bringing with it, a burn behind my sinuses. I shift my weight to my straightened right arm, balancing as I crane my neck over my shoulder and around a wall behind me, where the bed rests against. There, I see a bathroom. Lipstick words written across the mirrors: "Slut." "Fuck You."

I know this place.

My idle arm hovers behind me, holding balance before descending slightly and brushing against something faintly. I'm startled. My head snaps to the point of contact and my eyes rest upon a sleeping form.

And I'm overtaken.

He smiles when he sleeps... His arms tucked up and under his head, knuckles grazing the plush pillow that bellows out around his face, his bare chest exposed like a roman god. Blankets rest at his hips, bulky and cavernous, alluring in their promises of more beneath the sheets. Blue bangs arch up and over a glistening forehad and gently fall to kiss the tip of a sharp nose. As he exhales, the hairs dance quietly, content with the somber beat of his delicate sleep. He's beautiful. Stately.

My eyes travel to his forearms, resting on veins jutting from beneath a thin layer of flesh. Without a thought, I find my finger tracing the outline of his curves, the valleys of his toned abdomen, swimming the rivers of his veins, and gliding across the graceful contours of his defined jawline. I let out a muted sigh. How could I have ever managed something to perfect? Something so manly and... Daring.

I lean forward haultingly, enraptured by the grace of the deity before me. Next to me. In a bed that was once mine in a city I had laid claim to. All of this. The scents I once loved, the echoes of sirens and tires, flush and skidding against pavement that made sweet musical love to my ear drums. The hum of the energy within me matching the delicious beat of everything else. It was all... Here. Again. I felt it all without pain or worry. Or hate. I laid my lips upon my others', relishing the texture, reliving the moment of feeling alive and in love. Reliving the moment of placidity. Tasting a time when my ignorance begot me joy.

I know this place.

I feel his body stir beneath my own as I feel increasingly lighter. Soon my weight is lifed from the bed, the grazing of cotton sheets against my skin is once again a memory as my head suffers vertigo. The last thing I feel is lips upon mine as I struggle to capture the feeling somewhere more secure them in my memories. More sacred. Somewhere where it can live on within, instead of passing away as fast as it came. I'm afraid of forgetting, losing what once was and who and what made me... Makes me. Before I can consider this dream I'm lost again.

* * *

My eyes greet the familiar darkness of the back of my lids. I open them dramatically, hesitantly, the curtains of reality bringing me a picture of another gray scene. The walls, the curtains, my fur and skin all match the same undertones of ashen, stone misery. The colors of cruel certainty and objective truth.

"I don't want to know this place." I cry to myself in a whisper, turning my head to the side and greeting two startling red eyes. Behind them there's concern, masked with contempt. I squint my eyes, focusing closer as the brush strokes of verisimilitude paint over his features. I cannot lie to myself any more.

"Shadow, is this it? I this what... I." My fingers travel to my lips as I remember the kiss. As suddenly as my recollection refreshes itself, thick tears form in the midst of my vision. I cannot stop them, nor do I wish to fight. Instead, I blink, submitting to their will to fall, my mind and heart aching in unison for the comfort of my past, or at least, the soft memories I wish for. The romanticizing of a history that was never that good. The little moments that happened before the war inside of me. Before the war between us, and the battles against what I still need to do. "I just..." I continue, my eyes resting on the white of his chest, "I remembered..."

He looks indifferent, but I know he's not.

Right?

Reality.

"Please hold me." I shudder, snaking my arms around myself, bringing my knees in close. My body feels weak. My shoulders send sharp pains out and down through my arms, but I ignore them in quest of that warmth, albeit artificial. Albeit self made.

"What did you dream of?" His tone is sharp, demanding and yet somehow comforting in my aloneness. I watch him lean closer to me from the corner of my gaze.

"I... Don't want to be frank." I muster, "I don't want to tell you."

His lips tuck away to the corner of his face as his eyelids lower. He drags his eyes from the ground and reach up to hold my own.

"I'm trying to help you. Im trying to return a favor."

But that's not what I want. That's not the world I've tatsted, the world I've imagined. I blink again. More tears. Is this worth it? Are my actions warranted in true love, or are they perceived as cold and calculated? I think for a moment, that I've lead by example, and perhaps his words are reciprocal. Perhaps it's me. But it's always been me, and for once, I want it to be someone else. For once I want someone else to take the blame. Someone else to take the lead and to hold my hand and expose me to some form of dead chivalry and save me from my own steep cliffs.

"Is every interaction with you an exchange of patronage? Are we bartering favors here, or would I owe some sort of obligement... Some stupid currency to relinquish a litte emotion from you?"

I'm seething, but fuck it. What have I to lose? I could blame it all on my withdrawal. I just wanted more. I wanted the love again.

Who am I kidding... I just wanted to run.

In the foreground I heard some muted response come from him, but I wasn't listening. Instead I thought. Run. Where had I picked that up? When had I disarmed my stronghold and resorted to fantasy? When did I chose the life of a lie, and assume the nomadic title of someone running from the hand of the gods?

Perhaps that's why we were such a good match for a while. Me and Sonic.

I turn my body away from the red eyes, set to destroy. He's aggravated, and I find that I don't care. I'm in bed again, this time it's my own, In the now... Or his, or whatever. I'm in the bed I've been sleeping on for the past few weeks. I shrink myself down further into the covers and pile pillows over my head, wiping silent tears away with the backs of my hands.

"Fine."

I hear the floor creak as his metal shoes meet the laminated wooden tiles, clicking their way out of the room.

"Ames..."

I hate when he calls me that.

"Look both ways before crossing the street."

I guess now I know what the light was.


	4. Future Pawn

This... It's been a while since I've done _this_.

I indulge in a deep breath, unhurriedly, allowing the air to fill me. Consume me.

I sit cross-legged on the carpeted floor in the living room of Shadow's place. I blur my eyes and focus my energies on my presence, taking notice of myself. For once. I feel; my back, arching to keep posture, my legs, my bones and ankles pressing hard against the woodwork, my skin, flush against the plushness of the dark carpet beneath me. I listen to the echo of distant thunder and rushing winds, attentive to the hue of the twilight sky cast beyond the window. Trees and their leaves rustle as the wind combs its fingers through the forest. I close my eyes and take in another breath, relinquishing control and minding the scent of the rain that seems to never stop these days. I twitch my nose. The air is heavy, thick with anticipation and the collection of vibing currents surrounding me. I feel a hum within myself and give a small smile.

It is time.

In my right hand sits a deck of cards, an ornate mandala hand painted on the backside of each one: each card identical, yet slightly unique. I hold them without effort, accepting their weight as they shift in my unbalanced palm.

"Release me." I whisper, my thumb finding the corner ridges of the deck, and tracing them precariously. "If there exists a presence here, let it be known that I offer myself as your medium to speak."

There's nothing, at first. A small gust of air penetrating the pollen-lined window screen. I breathe deep. Again.

"Release me."

I am louder this time. More dominant. Commanding.

I whisper, testing the limits of the spirits around me. Timid, yet in control. "Give me..."

The back of throat vibrates gently, nudging my tongue from my mouth, saliva emitting, building behind my lips and brewing in my cheeks. Yes, I want this. I feel it. The blood flowing through me begins to boil, pulsing to a distant rhythm through my veins, changing the course of my heart. Just above it, my skin rashes, reddening with the desire of power, prepping for the burn and the heat of charging and controlling another's energy.

I moan, flexing my fingers around my tarot stack, feeling sweat bead and drip down my arms, trickling over my wrists and flowing between ungloved, writhing digits. The painted papers absorb me, and in turn, offer more. I can barely breathe, barely speak.

"Where do I move the next pawn?" I question, sotto voche. In the back of my mind, I brace myself, memories wheeling and body breaking, I'm finding myself spiraling again into another "attack". Quickly I find my back against the icy floor, burning skin savoring the hiss that flows through my senses as heat battles cold. My eyes flutter, pupils screaming with delight and pain as they march through stations of contraction and extension, magnifying and morphing the street lights outdoors into a delicate bokeh. I'm swinging, legs extended and arms gripping the surface, keeping balance, and I find that gravity and all the other rules of this planet no longer apply. Boundless and free, I'm bending the spoon. In the hushed tones of thousands, I get my answer:

_Trust behind you._

Suddenly, a heavy metal door slams behind me, just a room over. My body is jolted, jarring me from my thoughts, forcing the cards from my hands. I watch as they spread themselves among the floor, one of them, face side up. My ears perk in recognition of the steps that flow down the hallway, his solid, rythmic gait growing louder and closer. I keep my eyes focused out the windows, ignoring his presence, even after I hear the gush the leather couch cushions collapse beneath his weight. I listen to him sigh, hear his knees crack as his heels click against the glass ladden coffee table, lounging with his arms behind his head. I can feel him, ruby eyes burning a hole at my back with their piercing stare. I continue to look away.

It's silent this way for a long, long time...

"... Why did you return here?" He asks abruptly, his voice demanding and baritone. My thoughts race to conjure up an answer I don't have; for a reason that has its grounding in something more solid than intuition alone. I glance out the window. Two moons hang gracefully from the sky, craters on the surface sufficing for eyes, and they look as if they're lovers; eternally gazing into one another's soul. I realize, as if day had never happened, it has gone dark.

I bring my hand to my cheeks, stammering," I..." I bring my gaze over my shoulder, my eyes meeting his. I rest my response with silence. Realize that I could indeed answer, truthfully and fully, but time would never allow it.

"You know this could be the end of the both of us," He starts, eliciting a nod from me. "But do you think this is worth it... That we are worth it, if you're not willing to give your all?"

I shudder.

"I need a commitment, or this won't do."

I pause, unsure of where he stands. Unsure of where I stand, and ultimately, unsure of us. What, or who, am I committing to? What is my cause, my ultimate destiny? Who am I defined as and what is my punishment, my past, present and future? Who is shadow, and who, more importantly, am I? A woman, more or less of lacking character... Someone who defined herself on the premise of others her whole life... Living and trudging on without a sense of self. Stealing like a grand artist - morphing constantly to ideals and standards she knows nothing about. Using, selfishly, all the power and magick bestowed upon her for the greater good, or so she lies, every morning, to the mirror.

I stare at my hands, the dampened arch of my palms capturing the dull light from the floor lamp, fingers swollen and still shaky. I ask, timorously, as if ashamed,"Shadow...who am I?"

My ears twitch as the cushions breathe in like a bellows, his weight shifting, and his form lifting off the couch and toward me. Within a blink of an eye, his own stare is before me, level, he's kneeling on the floor inches from my body.

"Try not to obfuscate the issue with...whatever it is you perceive."

His hands glide up my arms, coming to rest at my shoulders before gripping them hard, as if to lock me down, to hold my head below the clouds and keep me in the real.

"Rose... You've already changed so much, and I promise that in the time to come you will change even more. You have already managed to bring yourself here; to follow what you felt. I know you couldn't explain it, and when I felt it, I couldn't either."

He looks away, his cheeks ripening with each passing moment. "This may be the end of me..." His lip twinges, "The end of you, or us, but..." His eyes return again, determination and power glowing behind them. "You'll..." He's head shakes, "We'll get though this."

I pout my lips at the evident damnation. Do I really want this? Can I even say 'no' anymore?

"Trust in yourself. Intuition has already brought you here. Now all you need to do is follow the path."

I nod my head, trying to grasp...everything. I watch him lean over and take notice of the tarot spread on the floor. He reaches down silently, bringing the upfaced card to his eyes.

"The Fool," I whisper, almost inaudibly, plucking the card from his grasp.

_Trust in the one behind you..._

"Unlimited power, potential... The beginning of something new..." I trail off, tracing my gaze off the card, and diving into the red depths before me.

I notice the man on the card, clad in frilled fabric, his face pointed upwards towards the sky with a blissful, unaware smile painted upon his face. At his feet, a tumultuous death awaits; a cliff, jagged with sharpened rocks and a tumultuous ocean with waves reaching for his being, ready to drown and consummate his death. Ready to bring him to his demise. I notice... The card is not as it should be. It is Instead, upside down.

"Although reversed," I continue, "There's recklessness... A misunderstanding of what's to come, and disregard for consequences."

"Perhaps," he whispers, leaning in close, picking up where I've trailed off, "It's the juxtaposition of past and present."

My lips are met with a soft, fleeting kiss.

"Do you love me?" I mouth, unsure if I want an answer.

"Only time will tell..."


	5. The Path I Chose

**( a/n: better late than never for a personal update! This chapter kind of just popped out, so I figured I may as well not wait to post it. Short and sweet, but imperative. So pay attention! Also, does anyone want to be my beta-reader? A lot of old friends aren't on this site anymore, and people don't review my stories like they used to, so it's hard to find someone who's willing. A PM offering would be such a nice gift... Anyway, enjoy.)**

* * *

Let's go back to the beginning... Go back to a simpler time. When my naivety was my ultimate power, and my lust for adventure fueled my day to day drive. To a time when I was stupid, and young. To a time... To the time, when I thought I loved another. When I thought I knew what love was. When I thought I knew who I was.

* * *

That night, he was there, glamorous with the blue hair on his head flowing with the autumn breeze. His face, gallant, and his hazel eyes dancing with mischievousness. I had that moment of hesitation when I saw him, just across the busy street, just out of focus. I felt myself hiccup with longing, as my stomach churned when the world around me halted to allow me that moment, frozen in time, to admire his presence. And when he spoke to me, his words came like a slap to the face. I was speechless. In awe. Perfection sat on the sidewalk at my feet, holding a guitar and drunkenly, unabashedly serenading me.

"My name is Sonic."

And it was in that moment, that my life, my future path, my destiny, and the very essence of myself, would never, ever, be the same.

"Amy, huh? Well, this is my friend Miles." He nudged the strawberry blonde at his side with his elbow, evoking his comrade's acknowledging nod, "Sup?"

We spoke. Silly drabble that didn't mean anything to either of us. Music, people, pastimes and of course, "Ames, you smoke?"

Ames. I gushed. I liked it.

"Uh, yeah." A response from me, excited, too quick to even consider it.

He shifted his weight to his back hand, swinging the guitar around his neck, the strap flawlessly easing to a halt at his back, as if commanded to; done a million times. He held out his hand out me, standing a least a foot taller than I, grinning ear to ear, his eyes, still dancing and beckoning me to follow.

"Wanna go for a run?"

And I did. I took his hand and in an instant I was in his arms. City lights flashed before me and past me in an array of colors and spectrums, blending together at a warped speed and painting a scene unlike anything I've ever witnessed. A show of brilliance and spectacle, headlights and street lamps mirroring and jiving in organic fusion, colors battling for the pleasure of performing before me. Heaven. It was fucking heaven. Wind caressed every pore on my face as the sheer speed of our movement bulletted through space. My eyes watered as I forced my lids back, refusing to look away as I grasped him tighter, his grip around me, weak and casual. I loved it. The sense of vulnerability. The sense of adventure and the notion of potential death, like speeding down the highway in a stupid race with your friends, drunk and too giddy with imminent death as you rip your seatbelt off because you're alive. And I was. I was fucking alive.

Or maybe I was just high.

We came to an abrupt stop and he dropped me, giggling playfully as my ass connected with the rooftop with a dense thud. A thumbs up and a wink did me in and, and before I knew it, I had a joint between my lips, inhaling hard with our legs dangling off a 200 story building, laughing at his funny and heroic anecdotes, staring at the world beneath us, cackling with ungrounded, drugged humor.

"Look over there!" I pointed down to a wooded area a few blocks away. A woman walked with her chao through a city park. A little further up, group of about ten or so figures in dark hoods. "They all look so small!"

He snickered at my comment, leaning his elbows on his knees. "Yeah, they do."

My eyes widened, "Sonic be careful! You're so close to the edge!" I grabbed his upper arm firmly, taken aback by the muscle I felt beneath his relaxed, cool skin.

In the corner of my vision, the woman and the chao catch me, and I watched, breathless between my companion potentially falling, and the sense of danger that held my throat in a vice grip. She was surrounded by the hoods, her feet spread apart and her arms bent, hands balled up in fists. The chao fleed the scene. She was alone.

"They're all so small..." He trailed off. I found it in myself to speak, although it came out as a squeak.

"Sonic, look, over there! That lady's in trouble! We've gotta help-"

He cut me off with a kiss. A long, deep hard kiss that threw my body back a bit. My eyes, tired from the excessive smoking closed on their own, without my intent. "Ames..." He growled, his body turned, hands kneading through my quills, "I like you..."

My thoughts fuzzed and my hormones overtook all reason. I wanted to help, but I wanted something else more. I warily held on to his shoulders, gently sucking on his chapped bottom lip, tasting the sticky sweet that pours from his mouth and into mine. Sharing flavor.

"Sonic," I parted, hazily looking into his bloodshot eyes, "I like you too."


	6. The Path I Chose Pt 2

There he was, on top of me, riding me out with everything he wanted to give, and take.

* * *

My flat held a strange air as the city breeze cascaded through the open windows, whipping the curtains to and fro like a flag in the midst of a twister. Echoes of distant sirens haunted the room as bits of light streamed in, flushing my whitewashed walls with hues of blue and yellow. The smell was dank with sweat and runoff miasma, the power plant in the distance, working overtime into the night, pushing clouds of smoke up into the already tainted sky. I remember questioning my motives, and his... I remember wondering, 'Is this it?' 'Is that all?'

* * *

He ran me back to my place, jumping from building to building, satisfying the craving I had for more. When we got there, I let him in, unthinking, yet subconsciously aware of my latent decision. I wanted this. I wanted to grow up.

When I unlocked the door, I felt something click within. I remember feeling hesitant and strangely aware of the energies around us. I felt hopeless. For a moment, I thought, I might want to fight it, but succumbed to the pressure of social expectations. Everyone was fucking, why shouldn't I? So I listened, not to myself, but to the pang in my stomach, and the pressure drop between my legs. The door shut behind us, and when I found his arms around both sides of me, tugging at the clasp on my back, beckoning my breasts to freedom, I thought, why not?

But I had plenty of reasons why not, and as I had noted before, defiance had not known me yet.

When he kissed me, it was ruthless; a dog starving and wild, gutting out its prey and gnawing at the inner flesh. His tongue searched my mouth for more, like a serpent, diving into the mouse hole, my throat. I felt with each breath, that a little more of my essence was being pulled from me, his own ravishing mine for the taking. An Aztec warrior, growing stronger with each soul consumed.

He asked between pants, "Ames, is this your first time?"

I shakily nodded, "Yeah..." And he smiled.

To this day I cannot quite place what I saw in his eyes. I recall them glowing, the lights in the room reflecting off their glassy exterior, and yet there was something more. Something I almost missed, just below the surface. It was, perhaps, lust? Desire? More than that... The power of... No, just the power. The sheer force behind his eyes and they way they greedily took me in. He looked almost sick. Overwhelmed by the notion of dominating me and having me for himself. He reached up to my breast, rubbing the surface with his thumb into a delicious rawness. His other hand laid at the small of my back, pulling my hips toward his own, grinding himself against me. I shuddered when I felt him exhale through his nose, the heat tickling the curvature of my neck.

"Mm, Sonic..."

He plunged me onto the bed, sheets rising around us like waves beating against a rocky shoreline. In an instant my skirt was torn, bra up and over my head, his bare chest close to my own, dampened fur caressing my exposed bits. I gasped, he moaned. I was drowning in ecstasy, yet simultaneously, eminently aware of continuing my mistake. His lips attached to mine, breath heavy, as he shifted his weight onto my upper body, sliding himself out of his shorts. I closed my eyes. I couldnt look. He slipped himself inside of me and I cried out,

"Sonic!"

He whispered, "Louder," as he drew himself out and slammed he harder, hilting me. Filling me.

"Ugh, Sonic!"

I turned my head to the side, gritting my teeth and digging my nails into this meaty shoulders. More. Harder and faster until I swear I had lost all of my senses.

Suddenly I felt something leave me.

A deeper exhale from my lungs than anticipated, and all was lost; the pain, the pleasure, the stickiness between myself and the polyester sheets. As if pulled from my body, I watched from above, perspective shifting to third person. My energy slipping from me and examining my form from another plane of space.

And that's when I knew something was really, really wrong. That's when I knew, the first real sign, something about me was different. Special. It wasn't just the predictions this time... The connection I had with those stupid cards, or hearing voices that I couldn't explain or place. This was something more... Stepping outside of myself. Seeing myself as another.

So there I was, hanging in space and staring at my form below. My eyes were closed, a trickle of sweat lodged at my brow; my lids squeezed tightly, as if in pain. My arms were wrapped around him, gripping, legs spread and toes curled. His chin rested at the crown of my head, my pillow-frayed quills ruffling against his muzzle, invading his mouth; his eyes blurred and half-lidded. His tongue slightly protruded from his parted hips as he drew in quick, even pants with each push into me. His back arched and collapsed repeatedly, evenly, a light shine of perspiration pooling between his shoulders, his biceps contracting as he anchored himself, one arm stabilizing, the other, scooped behind my neck.

It was strange to see this. Strange to be where I was. And even though I knew it wasn't right... Even though I knew it wasn't normal to see something outside of myself, of my perspective, other than behind my eyes, I felt... Okay.

"Uhh, Sonic, yes! Ahh, please..." My lips moaned without me, my voice holding an air of dryness, lackluster in its delivery. I watched myself and Sonic, them, quietly from above. Floating, powerless, just beyond where my body lay. My vision tunneled - my body's eyes opening and staring into me. I startled. I looked dead. Literally dead. Expressionless, tired, and completely destroyed. My soul had escaped my body, and my formless mind felt sick with dread. I wondered; was this the end? Was I even alive anymore, or had he captured my essence during our lustful lip lock? I was lost - separated from bodily containment, the life behind my eyes, the only one I had ever truly known. I wondered further, would I be able to return?

I watched him stop suddenly, pulling himself back and stroking his member just above my navel. He came, and I watched him collapse atop me, finishing, nuzzling his face between my own and the pillows.

The room, my perspective, and all the colors slowly, from the corners, drained into the darkest black I have ever known.


	7. Distant

**(A/N: Someone asked me how to tell the difference between the past and the present during the story... Pay attention to the tense of the verbs... Also, sorry for the late update. Real life has a way of constantly interfering with my fantasy world. Enjoy!) **

* * *

My body aches. No, stings... Something. My left arm, my upper thigh, my torso, stained a dark mixture of greens and blues just beneath the skin, where the veins break. My fingers, swelling more by the hour.

_"Do you love me, Shadow?"_

_"Only time will tell..."_

Did I really manage to lose track of everything back there? Am I really that unreliable, to myself?

He offers short, quick exhales, similar to a laugh. Mocking me. Shaking his head and staring into the dark pool of his back coffee.

We sit across from each other, arms resting on the worn metal table between us, its retro 50s blue coloring matching the chrome and linoleum interior of the late night diner. The neon 'open' sign blankets the room in a dreamy, muted haze. My eyes trace the flecks of pyrite embedded in the modgepodged surface, shining with the harsh light of the hanging metal lamp above. The air is cold and crisp; the diner, empty. A small air conditioner juts its rear out a dusty window, humming with electricity, accentuating the silence in coordination with a clock, the seconds hand ticking away in a timed fashion. My hand finds the spoon to my left, gently dropping it in my porcelain mug, swirling the cream into my decaffeinated drink. The spoon taps the inside, chiming the air with delicate dings as I cringe with pain shooting up my arm.

"I'm... A mess, aren't I?"

His eyes meet mine, his gaze steady, "Your bruises will heal in time."

I sigh, blowing my bangs from my face, pulling the spoon from my coffee and resting it on the napkin. I watch as the liquid runs from the silverware, sloping down the bends and making contact with the paper, staining a light pool of brown.

"I mean," I continue, "More than that."

He says nothing. I could try to read him, but yesterday's antics seems to have caught up with me, and I find that exhaustion and pain dominate my thoughts.  
But I still need to let go a little more.

"I feel... Really alone."

The silence hangs still, the clock ticking in the background _tick tock tick..._

He brings the mug to his lips, sipping the steamy beverage slowly. I watch as his eyes focus out the window, into the night.

"Don't you?"

I wait a few moments. _Tick tock tick tock..._

The mug meets the table with a heavy click, seismographic vibrations bouncing in circular waves on the surface of the jot java.

"No."

I sigh. Sometimes, he's so...

"Distant..." I mutter, curling in my lower lip, dragging my upper teeth over it.

"Not true."

"Shadow..." I moan with frustration. "I just, ugh, I don't know anything anymore! I thought... I don't-"

"You thought coming here would bring you clarity. You thought coming here would explain things. You thought I would tell you what to do."

I puff out my cheeks. I bend my arm and cup my hand to rest my face on it, gasping quickly, once again reminding myself of the bruising, and instead, decide to slouch my weight back into the booth's plastic cushions.

"And then you run out in front of cars."

Childish. Stupid me. It was only yesterday. The power overcame me and there was little I could do. I seethe, "You know nothing..."

"And yet you expect me to know it all."

My lower lip turns upside down, frowning. I consider for a moment, that perhaps he his right. Then again, what am I left to do? How am I left to feel when he is so grounded, so understanding of his own placement in this world and the mess that I sense getting nearer and nearer every day. My mind searches for the answer. Perhaps there is a solution.

More silence.

_Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock._

"Perhaps I could show you." I whisper, gliding my hand across the table and reaching for his.

He pulls away, lowering his lids and glancing from side to side. Anxiously eyeing our surroundings. I pull one eyebrow up, shocked. I straighten my back and look around, sharpening my ears and tuning my senses. I feel nothing.

"What? Since when did you become so ner-"

He cuts me off, his whispered tone sharp and demeaning.

"Shut up."

Before I can even consider the rudeness of his tone, I feel my stomach drop and time drag. Our eyes meet as a great unseen pressure builds between us. The ticking of the clock slows, as the neon sign grows brighter, the electrical hum of the outlet hissing louder and louder... _Tick... Tock..._

No.

_Tick..._

No. I'm not ready for this.

_..._

...BAM!

The wall to my left explodes, the force between us, now stronger, firing me backwards, knocking over tables and chairs in my reverse path. My spine hits the wall at the other end of the diner, followed by my whiplashing head, crashing back and denting the drywall. The neon sign unhinges, plummeting to the floor, igniting instantaneous flames, spreading across the linoleum like spilled milk. I cough as smoke fills my lungs, the heat of the nearby flames so close to licking my body. I call out, "Shadow!" But it only escapes me as a muffled choke as the ground shakes violently, tiles cracking at my feet, bending and contorting as black claws reach from beneath it; the floor birthing oil laden claws twice the size of my own form.

I feel my eyes well up, fear paralyzing me in the moment as I sit helplessly on the floor, flames reaching nearer and growing dangerously fast. My ears cringe as a screech cuts through the smoke ripened heat, tearing my inner drums and stealing my balance. My hands find the sides of my head and close off my weak points, as I feel my body tumble to the side, the scent of burning flesh encouraging my anxiousness and paralyzed state. Fire fills my vision as I scream, rivaling the cries of the beast before me. Its greased appendages clamp the floor, muscles bulging as elongated arms slowly rise to reveal a mouth, snarling and frothing, teeth stained a deep charcoal with swollen gums to match. A breath escapes the animal that feeds the blazing elements, dizzying me with its sickening sulfur stench. Hot tar leaks from its fleshy arms, falls and slaps the burning canvas with wet claps.

Help me I can only think, as the faceless demon slithers closer. I want to fight, but instead succumb to the pain that courses through my body, veins straining with each thud of my heart belting through me, hammering my temples and poisoning my head with fear.

"Into the dark I command thee..."

A whisper, at first. Suprising and intimidating. Red eyes shine as the fire surrounding them accentuates his presence; Shadow, reveling in the place from which he was begot. Gloved hands curl into fists inches from his nose, as red streaks highlight and pulse with energy. He stands, towering over the creature without fear. Again. Louder. Hissing,

"Into the dark I command thee!"

His knuckles kiss the flames as he bends his arms, poising them ahead, the tops of his hands staring down the hellion. His mouth parts slightly, as beads of sweat drip down his temples and run along his lips, before sinking in to his exposed, grinding canines. He cries out, his forearms shaking as his elbows struggle to meet, as if he were lifting unimaginable weight; His arms, opposing magnets. I notice him, his eyes, and the fury they hold as his brows dig deep into his expression. He's powerful. Phosphorescent in all his glory of being in battle. I want to close my eyes. I cannot look.

I cannot breathe.

And then, Another bend in the playing field. I suppress vomit as my vision shifts to another angle; color stretching and shapes losing form. His eyes dart to me, piercing through shock, their energy reviving my sense of duty. The frenzy of disorganization continues as I focus myself on him, struggling to open a door I cannot see, but feel. To open a portal to stuff the creature in. He relaxes his stance only for a minute before once again trying to bring his arms elbow to elbow, wrist to wrist. I stare. His lips. The ones that felt so smooth and forgiving just hours ago, now cracked and gushing blood, skin torn and dried. They motion to me a signal. He mouths,

"Get up, Rose."

And I do. Shifting my weight to my knees and hands, I find myself rising. The burned remains of my gloves stick deep into the bloody flesh of my palms, as the sweat from my brow leaks into the open wound. I let out a shrill cry, knees shaking, back arched and eyes full of tears. I face the demon, my fears, my ultimate.

This is my future now.

Remind myself. I chose this.

I look up to see him still struggling, and find it in me to do what must be done.  
I stand tall, rolling the crown of my head towards my spine as my arms reach high, palms open and fingers spread. I spread my legs and find my grounding amidst the chaos.

With him, in unity, I chime, "Into the dark..."

A stretch of consciousness. A trance. An energy so apparent that I feel my biceps flutter and shake as I try to open the gap. Blurred and confused, right angles melting into smooth turns and flowing rivers of perplexity. I pry at the ledge of another dimension. Focus.

"...I command thee." His eyes flash. A grin. Pride. The creature screams a deafening soprano as I move my shaking arm into hammer-space, fingers tracing the hilt of a weapon I cannot remember once being without.

"Amy," I hear distantly, "Now."

I swing with every fiber of my being, every bit if essence, and all the energy within, so hard and powerful that I feel as though contact may deliver me to the river Styx. I feel my hammer fly, pulsing with energy as it collides with a disastrous explosion, like a wrecking ball against brick.

I hear a collapse as gravity resets and the heat inexplicably dissipates. My vision is gone. My balance spins.

Suddenly, arms around my waist. A whisper in my ear,

"Chaos control."


	8. Serendipity

_**(A/N: sorry to be so slow with the updates, although I think a lot of my reviewers have forgotten about me... And just when things are getting to be so good! Oh well. Hope you guys enjoy this! And I would love some constructive criticism here, If anyone has any. )**_

* * *

Staring at a white canvas, I'm reminded of the spiritual teachings of Buddha:

The self, is considered to be unimportant.

The creation of the self is a distraction from the ultimate truth.

I couldn't disagree more.

* * *

"Sonic!" I called gleefully from across a busy street. A crisp autumn wind glided its cool fingers through my quils, gently easing its way up the sleeves of my blouse, causing me to shiver. My knuckles cracked as I squeezed the hot paper coffee cup in my hand tighter, fighting off the cold, while my other hand gripped my schoolbooks.

"Wait, hey!" I darted across the intersection, shoulder bag swinging side to side behind me, rhythmically bouncing into my behind with every other stride.

"Sonic!" I exclaimed joyfully through panting breaths, having just managed to avoid being hit by a convertible. My smile melted from my face when I realized he wasn't alone. "Oh." I sighed, greeting his "friends" with quick glances, resting my books atop a nearby garbage bin, my coffee mounting the pyramid of literature, "What's up, guys?" They nodded in return, their dark eyes reckoning with all that was wrong with the world, as they relished in their own personal vices. Vices soon to be passed on to me. "Hey." Sonic motioned to me, capturing all of my attention in his glance. He extended his arm, a cigarette lodged between his thumb and forefingers. "Want one?" I blushed at his backhanded generosity, "Oh yeah, thanks so much."

I lifted the white stick and brought it to my lips, as one of the snakes slithered towards me and lit my smoke. "Here," he offered, the venomous bite of spiced rum torrenting from his breath, saturating the air around me. I gave him a quick smile as I took notice of the way the small flame of his lighter reflected in his dark eyes. The way the yellow tones reflected perfectly against the brown pools; a dark abyss, a cavernous mouth holding secrets at its bottom. Lies, flowing and spilling over the top like oil in a -

"Hey, are you gonna smoke that, or...?" Sonic.

"Haha, oh, sorry, I guess I was just spacing out!" I countered, offering snappy laugh. "You know, 8AM classes and all," I followed as I leaned in with my smoke, inhaling against the soft flame, taking it in.

Another one in the group spoke, indirectly, as he stared across the street into the city park. A red sun rested above the silhouetted elder oak trees that rooted in the pseudo forest, just beyond the immortal highway that separated us from them; Provided the safety of a mote around a crystal palace of innocence and youth. The evening rays splashed the boy's sullen cheeks, his gaunt expression illuminated with distant fire. He glanced to the side, caught my staring and smiled as his eyes glazed over my frame hungrily, stealing a small gasp from my throat as I noticed him sizing me up. "There's a party tonight... It's at the Slaughter House. Wanna go?"

My ears perked at the word. It was just what I needed. "Sonic, we should go!" I yelped as I pulled on his arm, "It will be such a good time!"

* * *

I feel weak and dizzy. The world spins around furiously, while I grip the grass beneath me, digging my boots and knees into the earth as I attempt to anchor myself. The weight of my body feels light, and I can only moan his name as slow chant to focus on my labored breathing, awaiting the bile that takes its time coming up my sore throat.

"I'm here." He mutters, an arm still around my waist. I dry heave as a midnight breeze brings the scent of his breath and burning flesh to my nose. My squinted eyes strain to open as I notice bits of my appearance in a pool of blood at the ground fed with the gushing falls pouring from my open head wounds. I gaze upon it A reflection of fear on a tainted face. A deep gash juts from eyelid to chin, white tendon and spaghetti like insides peeking out between the pages of my unattached skin. Red eyes next to my own glower, rage hidden behind concern. "Shuh... Shad..." I hiccup, belching out death in a river of acid, burning the back of my lips and tearing at the passage. Between upheavals, I try harder and harder to call his name, failing miserably each time as more and more mucus expels from my insides. I feel it's hot splash upon the backs of my hands, its pressure connecting with exposed skin, infecting the cuts and blisters that decorate my arms. "Ugh..." I grab hold of my temple, a surging headache surfaces as throbbing pain threatens to bring me to faint. A deep cough shakes my core and brings me, face down, into my own sick.

"Look at me."

I crane my neck to the side. I look to him, cringing as I drink in his form lying next to my own, his fingers digging into my skin with a sense of eerie urgency. Hs quills lie sprawled around his face, drenched in sweat and air kissed blood. He stares at me beneath half lidded eyes, his mouth parted, as a hot gust of air escapes him, chalking the chilled air around us a bellowy gray mist. His body rises and falls dramatically, the white fur cresting his chest now matted with grey sludge.

He gently pulls my hips to his own. I easily give in and roll into his side. Two arms snake tighter around me and pull me into an embrace, jarring me from my thoughts of pain, shocking me into a reality I cannot fathom. I glance up at his face, bemused by the occurrence. The idea of him, holding me in an embrace, and instead of questing this erratic behavior, I succumb to the automatic, and hold him back.

My mind wanders to the rhythmic sound of distant crickets, echoing their autumn nocturne throughout the tall grass valley. My thoughts collapse, and I find myself soul searching. My eyes look up to see a sleeping, defeated Shadow, moonlight blanketing his jagged edges in a soft hue.

I press my ear to his chest, to the even thrumming of his heart, and wonder aloud, "Why me..."

I think back to all my mistakes and blunders. To my regrets. To sniffing lines of dense, unnamed powders off uneven coffee tables. To getting high for the first time. To the things I thought I wanted. My shifting, my questions, my cards. And for a moment, I think of him. The way we used to use each other, unlimited in potential and hedonistic in unfulfilled desire. How he abused my body and how I drained his mind. How I conformed to ideals and standards that were never my own... I glance up at Shadow and tighten my lips. I made amends with myself. In other words, I lied. I lied and told myself that I was all I was, and that was only without the conformity. Lied and said I would never live for another. Only for me.

And here I am. Lying, half dead on the ground in some field, fighting off hellish creatures with a man I barely know, because it is my "Destiny". Falling more and more in love becuse of some inexplicable cosmic pull that forges our paths into one. What am I doing? Where am I going? And the ultimate question is, am I asking the right questions?

A twinkling light in the sky flickers like a flame to a bellows, and I rest my eyes upon it and meditate, delving deeper.

I exhale.

I almost died.

I almost fucking died.

And yet I'm holding on because... Because I can't figure out why. And part of me worries that the answer lies not within circumstance, but within me... That part of me I never developed because I had solely devoted myself to another... To the other. To him. And I worry that maybe that's what's taken so long. For years I ran, trying to escape, trying to be something for someone else, for Sonic. When in fact, in that time, I should have been cultivating me. Learning who I was. And now, I'm lost. Navigating the fields of destiny with nothing but my internal compass. Intuition. And he was right. Shadow was. I thought he would have answers. Now that he doesn't, I worry that every breath I take is in vain of a fortune that was destined for something great. Now, just wasted.

I wipe my nose with the back of my hand as my sinuses empty in chorus with my wringing eyes, trying to speak, as a form of distraction from my mulled self.

"Where are we?" I speak into his stomach, turning away from the hypnotic sky. My questioning lips glide against his slickened stomach fur as a rush of heavy salt floods my mouth. My tone is gentle and deliberate. I tighten my hold slightly, satisfied with perhaps not getting an answer, with lying here against him, crippled with pain and shock.

He slowly lifts one eyelid to glance at me before opening both wide, taking in my pathetic appearance. His hand cups the side of my face in the most perfect of ways. "Rose..." He starts, dragging his thumb agains my sodden cheeks. "These tears... They're different." My stomach drops. He can sense my questioning. Smell the fear of ego death exude from my pores. My existential crisis, evident as a tattoo across my forehead.

"Rose." He says again, holding my face a little tighter. " I hope these are not gnnn" he grunts, crunching his wounded abdomen to the side and clenching his teeth, "...tears of defeat."

I want to open my soul to him. To pour out everything. To give myself to him, wholly, without secrecy and restraint. But instead, I frown. I know little of myself, and what I do is merely a fabrication.

"Actually, Shadow..." I impose, cutting the air to make room for something more important. More prominent. My eyes swell with more tears as I stare into his own, wide and dazed with concern that I've never seen before.

Think of something. Quick.

Instead of the truth, I offer all that I have.

More lies and distraction. I'm crying because...

"... you've never held me before."


End file.
